The Girl Who Knew Too Little
by mlr96
Summary: Mycroft Holmes is seen walking at Saint Bartholemew's hospital, escorting a young woman. A couple of hours later, the girl is being kidnapped. Sherlock and John are up to find out who she is and on the way, they discover the secret Mycroft was hiding from both Sherlock and the girl for nearly two decades, one that will change their lives.
1. prologue

**Prologue:**

The young woman who was marching down the pavement appeared to be 23 years old. She was wearing a long skinny jeans and a blue shirt and had long, dark, curly hair which she kept touching all the time, as if she wasn't satisfied with the way it looked. She stopped for a moment and reached out a hand into her weary bag to pull a ringing cellphone. She looked at the screen, frowned and declined the call, throwing it back in her bag. Then, she continued walking and entered St. Bartholomew's hospital.

Across the street, a man was watching her. As the phone call he was trying to make was declined, Mycroft Holmes sighed and followed her inside.


	2. Chapter 1

The woman's name was Sher Lucas, and she was not 23 years, but 19. At a matter of fact, it was the day of her nineteenth birthday.

She passed through the entrance, nodded to the guard who stood there waiting and headed to Oncology.

She was well aware of the person who was following her, despite how hard she tried to ignore his existence. It was all she could not to turn around and look at him, knowing it will lead to a conversation she was attempting to delay for a long time.  
Reaching Oncology, she reached out a hand to her head and pulled off the wig she was wearing. She sighed with relief of the weight leaving her skull when he spoke.

"It won't be long before your hair will be long enough so you can start walking without it." He said.

Sher turned around, now unable to keep ignoring him.  
"I don't like it yet." She said. That was true. Her hair was too short and, curling as it did over her head, she looked like a baby. "I don't matter the wig," she added. That was a lie. It stung and itch and never looked as good on her as she wished it would.

"You look beautiful." He said, as a matter of fact. "With or without it."

Fortunately, Dr. Ain has arrived, sparring her the need to answer this comment.

"Hello you two!" He said happily. "Come inside my office, I have some news I'd like to tell you."

"What are you even doing here?" Sher asked Mycroft as they were entering the doctor's office.

"I am still your emergency contact, like it or not." He replied. "And as such, I have the right to join your medical meetings."

"Well, I don't like it," she said.

"Replace me then." He said and they were in.

They sat at the two chairs in front of the desk, while Dr. Ain closed the door and sat on the other side of it.

"I have good news for you today." He said. "The cancer is retreating. The bone narrow donation was helpful." He smiled at them as Sher tried to ignore Mycroft's look, gazing at her while she processed the news.

"It's..." she said, shocked.

"Retreating."

Sher smiled as her eyes were being filled with tears of happiness.

"Now," said Dr. Ain, "let's discuss what we'll do next, shall we?"


	3. Chapter 2

"Why is this place looks like a dump every time I arrive?"

John walked around 221b and looked at the place. There were dirty dishes on the living room table, rotten fruits in the refrigerator and human insides dissected on the kitchen table.

"It have always looked this way, John. Your indiscrimination amazes me every time." Sherlock was saying from his lay on the couch. It had been this way since John's baby was born, a small little Amelie with hands too small and eyes too big. "You know, I believe marriage life had ruined you."

"Marriage ruined me? Loneliness ruined you." John replied, a bitterness in his voice.

"I beg your pardon? I was perfectly alright before I met you." Said Sherlock, moving to sit on the couch.

"Who told you that?" Asked John. "Certainly not I."  
A hint of a smile crossed over Sherlock's face.

"How is Mary?" He asked, his concern true.

"She's fine. We'll go to the restaurant tonight."

"I honestly never get that thing with you, going out to spend money rather than make a nice meal at home."

"In a restaurant we can try new food types. And besides, it's nice not having to wash the dishes." John smiled. "Not that it matters to you. You won't wash the dishes if you were having a feast."

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer when his phone rang, the sound of a text message.

He put up a finger to John. "Remember that." He said.

"Lastrad?" Asked John, hopefully. They had no worthy case in weeks and Sherlock was that close to start shooting the wall.

"No," said Sherlock. "Molly. Apparently she saw my brother at the hospital. Wondered if I might find it interesting." He grabbed for his coat.

"Since when do you find your brother interesting?" Asked John, surprised.

"Since he's in Oncology." Said Sherlock and went out the door, knowing that John would follow.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hi everybody!**

**So I know the last chapters has been a bit short, I'll try to make up for that in the next chapters.**

**Btw, I own NOTHING! All characters in this fanfic, other than Sher Lucas, are not mine, but BBC only!**

Mycroft and Sher stood silently, waiting for the elevator to arrive, as Sher was fixing her wig.

"Would you like to go to dinner tonight?" He finally managed.

Sher looked at him suspiciously. "Dinner?" She asked.

"To celebrate your birthday." He said. "And the good news we had just received."

"Where?"

"There's a new seafood restaurant, Arnie. I can get places in it, if you'd like." He hesitated for a moment before adding "James can come as well."

"Now we've reached the bottom of it." She said bitterly. "James."

Mycroft sighed. "It wasn't the reason, Sher."

"But if it can be added, why not?" She said, furiously.

"Don't bring him then," he said, "it doesn't matters. This is for you and about you. All I said was that he may come as well if he pleases to."

"As if I should believe that!" Sher said, practicly yelling at the man who stood in front of her.

"All I want is for you to be happy, Sher." Mycroft said, as unaware of her fury as always. "nothing else matters to me."

"We'll see about that." Sher said and faced the hallway. "I'll take the stairs."

"I will be there tonight," Called Mycroft to her leaving back. "Come if you'd like, at half past eight."

And there she was gone and the elevator has arrived. Mycroft entered the elevator, heavy hearted. He couldn't manage a single conversation with that woman without ending it with a fight between them. He leaned against the elevator wall. She hated him so much, and it tore him from the inside.

He exited the elevator on ground floor, only to see Sherlock and John arriving to his direction.

"Brother-dear," he said politely, "how are you?"

"A bit tired, brother-mine, but you have known that already." Sherlock said. "What are you doing here?"

"Work business," said Mycroft.

"At Oncology?" Sherlock replied. "Escorting a terribly young woman?"

"An assistance." Mycroft said.

"Lie. It's your hint," said Sherlock, "playing your fingers."

"That is not true." Said Mycroft.

"Don't feel bad. Nearly everyone got a hint. John is touching his ear."

"Am not!" Said John, and covered his ear, as if to protect her from what Sherlock was saying.

"Back to our matter," said Mycroft, "since when do you even care so much about my work?"

"I don't." Said Sherlock.

"you're asking me about my job." Said Mycroft.

"It is not your job you're here about today." Replied Sherlock.

"I don't touch my ear." Mumbled John.

"well then," Mycroft said, "that's why you ran here as soon as - who was it, Dr. Hopper? - told you I'm here, is it?"

"My motives are none of your business." Said Sherlock.

"Is that so?" Asked Mycroft. "Well, my business are none of your business, brother-dear." He said and walked away.

"I'll find out, you know!" Called Sherlock behind him."

Mycroft hadn't even looked when he said, "be my guest."


	5. Chapter 4

"You simply cannot believe what Mycroft did today!"

Sher entered the flat she was sharing with her boyfriend.

"Hello?" She asked as no reply arrived. "James, are you here?"

"Yes, yes." Came the familiar voice from the bathroom. He popped his head out the door. "I was just about to take a nice shower."

"Did you hear what I said?" She asked.

"Yes." He walked to her. Wearing long black pants and no shirt at all, he started kissing her neck. "Did you hear what I said?"

"He simply appeared at the hospital and joined my meeting with Dr. Ain. And then," she said to his back, "as if it wasn't bad enough, he asked me to go to dinner with him tonight. Dinner!" She said to his back.

"Why not?" He mumbled to her hair between kisses.

"Because," she said, backing from him, "I want nothing to do with him."

James looked at her. His fierce black eyes poked her with their clarity. She was amazed how black they are, every single time. The sight of it calmed her down.

"He's the only family you've left." He said quietly.

"Not according to him." She said. Seeing the look in his eyes, she understood how hurt she let herself sound.

"He's still the closest thing to family you have."

Sher sighed. "Aren't you going to ask me how the meeting with Dr. Ain was?"

His face brightened a bit. "How was the meeting?" He asked, teasing her.

"I am officially cancer-free." She said.

"No!" He said in astonishment. "Sher, that it's amazing!"

"I know!" She said, a wide smile to her face. "It was the best birthday present I could have asked for!"

"The best?" He asked, a naughty smile on his face.

"Well..." she said.

"Why don't we go to the next room and check if I can compare to it?" He asked.

She smiled and let him lead her into the bedroom, throwing her wig on the floor on her way in.

Afterwards, they lied together on the bed. His arm was around her waist and she was playing with his fingers.

"You should try and mend things out with him." James said, breaking the silence.

Sher stopped what she was doing. "What if I don't want to?" She asked.

"Can you honestly tell me you don't want to?" He replied with a question.

Sher sighed. "What should I do then?" She asked.

"Say yes." He said. "Go out to dinner with him. Try to settle things down with him."

"Fine." She said.

"If I'll come, will you feel better?" He asked.

Sher turned to look at him, to see if he was serious. "No!" She said, realizing he was. She drew him back to a hug. "It'll be no good to have you suffering, too."

"Fine." He said.

"What now?" She asked.

"Well, I was just about to take a shower when you rudely interrupted." James said and Sher hit his hand, friendly. He got up and started walking towards the bathroom. Before he entered the room he turned around and looked at her.

"Everything is going to be ok." He said, and Sher was left with the hope that he's right.


	6. Chapter 5

Sherlock was walking around the flat, thinking. There was something he missed, that he knew for sure. He simply couldn't understand what it was. It took him by surprise. He was definitely not used to not understanding

"Why are you so determined to realize what your brother was doing at the hospital?" John had asked him earlier.

Stupid question. He wanted to know what his brother was hiding, why was he lying. But he missed something.

He looked at his arm, three nicotine patches on. It was definitely a three patches problem. But even the nicotine couldn't help his mind figure out what was wrong.

He laid himself on the couch. The girl. He thought. It had to be something concerning the girl. But who was she?

Searching his mind palace earlier, he knew she wasn't someone he met before, leaving him to nothing but the deduction.

She was not a friend of Mycroft, for he had none. A worker maybe? Yet Mycroft was lying saying that, he knew that for certain. So who was she?

And as importantly, where was she? She and Mycroft had entered the hospital together, but only he was leaving. Was she staying there? And if so, why? Was she out before they had arrived? But then, why had Mycroft stayed past her leaving? And assuming they left together, why hadn't she been seen?

He reached out for his phone. The call was answered immediately.

"Molly," he said with no previous greetings, "I have some questions I'd like to ask you about seeing my brother at the hospital today."

"Yes, of course," she said.

"This woman he was walking with, how did she looked?"

"Quite tall," she replied, "but in a good looking way. The height flattered her. She had dark curly hair. Dark brown, appearing to be black, but I think it was a wig."

"What made you think that?" Sherlock asked.

"She kept touching it." Molly said simply. "You don't touch your hair all the time unless it's quite uncomfortable. Otherwise you just forget it's there."

"Anything else about her?" Sherlock asked, impatiently. "Did you happened to hear what they were talking about?"

"Oh, they weren't talking," she said.

"What do you mean, not talking?" Sherlock asked, surprised. "They simply walked side to side, not saying a word?"

"No," Molly said, "they weren't walking side to side. She was walking a few steps before him, not glancing even a bit towards his direction."

"How do you know they were together, then?"

"Because he was looking at her, all the time. And she was well aware of his presence." Molly paused. "Is that any help?" She asked, hopefully.

"Yes, thank you." He said, hanging the phone before her 'you're welcome' can come and bother him.

The girl was ignoring Mycroft. So that definitely out ruled the co-worker possibility.

And she was wearing a wig. Most likely to hide the damage chemotherapy has done to her hair. So they were there for her.

But why? Why she was there, it was understood. But what was Mycroft doing there with her?

Sherlock sighed. Deduction is like having a pile of puzzle pieces containing two puzzles, when you only need one. Right now he was missing an important piece, yet he couldn't find it not knowing how the puzzle looked like, and he couldn't know that without that piece. He had this certainty that seeing the right piece, he will know it to be true. He just had to find it.

A hunch of his told him that the right piece would have something to do with a quite tall, dark haired cancer patient, who had the tendency to ignore his brother.


	7. Chapter 6

At that moment, however, Sher didn't ignore Mycroft. In fact, she was following the hostess of this new restaurant straight towards the table where she knew he would be waiting. His face lightened when seeing her.

"Sher," he said, rising to her. "You came."

Sher was about to let a nasty comment slip out of her mouth. As she saw the hint of a smile on his lips she held herself. This was one of Mycroft's rare smiles - visible only if you knew where to search for it. She reminded to herself she should be nice, and smiled. "Yes." She said. "Shall we seat?"

Mycroft waited standing when she seated herself, not sitting until she sat comfortably in her chair. A waitress with dyed blonde hair have them menus, and Sher stopped herself from telling her she should learn to appreciate the hair she have. Mycroft seemed to notice her gaze.

"You used to be that way once, remember?" He asked. "Dying your hair."

"Yes, though I only added colors." Sher touched her wig absentmindedly. "I never changed the basis of it."

They sat silently until the waitress came back for their orders.

"May I order for you?" Mycroft asked her.

"Why?" She asked suspiciously.

"I wonder if I still know your likings well enough to order for you. Like we did when you were a child. You don't have to except what I'll say," he added, seeing her reaction. "I'd simply like to try."

Sher hesitated for a couple of seconds. "Fine." She finally said and Mycroft turned back to the irritated waitress.

"Cocktail shrimps for me," he said, "and the fish special dish for the lady."

"Anything else?" Asked the waitress.

"Two glasses of white wine, if you may." Replied Mycroft. "And one salad, no lettuce."

He looked at Sher for her approvement and she nodded, once.

From that moment on the conversation flowed. Mycroft and Sher had known each other since she was a child, since he was an acquainted of her mother. He was there for all the important matters, school graduations and birthdays, like today. He was a replacement to the father she had never met, and his love for her was true. All was perfect between them until she got ill.

The conversation somehow managed to ignore the cancer related subjects for most of the dinner. An impressive matter, considering it to be partly the reason for this dinner.

At desert, they couldn't ignore it any longer.

"To your birthday." Mycroft said, lifting his glass for a toast.

"To a reborn relationship." Sher added, lifting her own glass.

"And more important than all," Mycroft said, "to being cancer free, at last."

Sher's smile stayed on her face, but it no longer reached her eyes. Mycroft noticed.

"I should have never said..." he started, but Sher interrupted.

"No," she said. "It's for the best you said it. We couldn't ignore it forever, can we?"

"Sher." There was a look in his eyes ordering her to let the subject go as he did when she was a child. She could hear her mind screaming to let the subject go. But she could listen to neither.

"Here's a toast," she said peacefully, "for Mycroft Holmes. The man who just happened to be there when I needed a bone narrow donation, and who happens to be a match, despite the fact we're not family related. Tell me," she looked at him, "did you honestly expected me to believe that?"

"Sher," She could hear the order in his voice, breaking into a plea as she talked. But she couldn't let it go.

"A toast to the man who saved my life, by being against all odds and a perfect match, who knew me since childhood, yet never told me how he met my mother." She continued, ignoring him. "A toast to the man who, despite all that sense indicates, continues claiming not to be my father." Her voice cracked and she looked at him, finally ready to hear what he had to say, but he wasn't focused on her.

His eyes were fixated on someone behind her, and she turned to see nothing but a couple being seated.

"I must go." He said. "They will bill the dinner on me." He stood, nodded at her and left.

He always does that. Sher was not surprised, for she was used to these sudden departures of his. But this time, she couldn't help but feeling it was her fault.

She left the restaurant, heavy hearted. Passing on her way by the table where the couple sat, she couldn't but overhear a fragile of what the husband was telling his wife.

"He simply couldn't let it go, Mary. He's determined something is going on. And he won't rest until he figures it out."


	8. Chapter 7

Sherlock was lying on the couch, half asleep, when John entered. Thinking Sherlock to be sleeping, he started arranging things in their proper place. Sherlock opened a single eyelid.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Asked John, throwing fowl milk to the garbage bin. "I'm cleaning."

"Why? Shouldn't you be at a dinner with Mary?"

"I was," said John, "dinner is over. Mary offered I'd pass here to see if you have any insights about the Mycroft related case."

Sherlock looked at John for a couple of seconds before answering.

"I had some insights," he said slowly, "yet not the big breakthrough. I know it had something to do with the girl, but I don't know where she is, or who she is." Sherlock rubbed his eyes. "I need more details, when I have none."

"Had you considered the option that there is no big breakthrough?" John asked. "I know you think there must be something but what if there isn't? What if there is really nothing going on?"

Sherlock sat up on the couch immediately. It made his head spin but he ignored it and looked at his friend.

"Just so you'll know, I spoke to Molly and she informed me that the woman is a cancer patient and that they were at Oncology for her. She's ignoring Mycroft for an unknown reason and yet, he followed her there. He entered with her to the Doctor's room. But he claimed that she's a coworker of his, despite the fact that it is beyond any doubt false. Is that something enough for you?" He finished expecting an answer from John.

John looked at his best friend in sympathy. "I understand there's something," he said, "but you can't work on it while you're that tire. Go to sleep and continue tomorrow. It's not like they will go anywhere."

John's phone started ringing and he turned to take the call. Sherlock looked at the clock. Midnight exactly. Who calls this late? He wondered, tiredly, and started walking towards the bedroom. John's voice stopped him.

"Sherlock!" He called. "Come here!"

Suddenly, Sherlock wasn't this tired. He crossed the flat with three steps and reached three kitchen where John was apparently in a middle of a phone call. John marked him to come closer and put the phone on speaker.

"Oh, that's much better." Said a female voice out of the phone. "Now I can talk and everybody can hear me. But not everyone can talk. Only Johnny boy."

John and Sherlock's eyes met, and a sudden understanding crept into Sherlock's mind.

"Who are you?" Asked John.

"What, don't you recognize me?" Asked the woman. She spoke monotonic yet the words expressed what the voice hadn't. "After all we've been through, I'm offended."

"Moriarty."

"First warning. Next time anybody but Dr. Watson it's speaking," For the first time, her voice trembled. "She will suffer."

"What do you want?" John asked. "What is the little game you want us to play this time?"

"Well, that is up to you to find out, isn't it?"

"What do you mean by that?" Asked John, confused.

"Find us." Moriarty said, using the girl's voice. "You have eight hours. Or else..."

The call was cut off and John looked up at Sherlock.

"What the bloody hell was that?" He asked.


	9. Chapter 8

When the call was done, Sher looked up at the empty room, which was barely lit. Her eyes ached from the struggle to see anything at all.

"Hello?" She called through the emptiness to the man she knew was watching her in a room nearby. "I did as you asked. Can I see him now?"

No reply arrived and Sher was frustrated. "Hello?" She called again. "Please?"

The door opened to a crack. The light that leaked in blinded her, so Sher lifted a hand to stop it from reaching directly to her eyes.

The door closed and Sher was able to see again, yet she dared not move. Last time the door opened, a man beat her until she agreed to have the phone call.

"Sher?" She heard a silent whisper. "Sher, are you here?"

"James?" She asked.

"Sher?" Sher could hear the relief in his voice. She struggled to get to her feet, ignored the pain and ran to him. As she clutched his left arm, he twitched.

"I'm sorry," she said, terrified, "are you ok?"

He lifted his eyes to her face. "I am now."

Sher smiled a sad smile and hugged him. "I'm sorry." She said. "Without me you wouldn't had to go through all of this."

At first she was terrified. As she walked out of the restaurant, a man in mask attacked her. She had known some self-defense, Mycroft made sure of that years ago, but the man overcome her. He injected her something and it was done. She was unable to resist, and could do nothing but stay motionless as he lifted her up and got her into his car. He laid her in the back seat and was about to close the door. She attempted speaking and failed. He put a glove covered finger to his lips.

They drove for a while. She couldn't remember all of the trip, and her mind betrayed her. When the vehicle stopped, he came back for her and threw her into this room. She was sore and stiff, but still clear minded enough to refuse having that phone call he asked he to do, using the speaker that changed his voice and was hurting her ears, threatening to hurt James if she won't. And then he came back in. When he was done, she barely had enough strength to ask to see James afterward.

The conversation was an odd one, with the metal voice in her ear, guiding her what to say. But she still understood enough. The man she was speaking to, the one called Watson, he was at the restaurant. That was the man Mycroft was looking at when he left.

And so her fear shifted to anger on Mycroft. Because, clearly, it all had something to do with him. And therefore, in all matters regarding James, it was her fault.

"I'm so sorry." She repeated, until James calmed her down.

"It's alright." He said. "Everything will be just fine. Would you like to sleep for a while?"

She was tired. But she knew the masked man was watching, and she didn't want to show him weakness.

"No," She said. "I'm fine."

James kissed her once, very gently, and her eyes we're filled with tears. He wiped them and looked at her.

"Sleep." He said. "You look like you need it."

Sher curled herself on his chest and fell asleep in an instant.

She woke up not long after. When she asked James how long it has been, he said he thinks that almost an hour.

She stood up and started walking around the room.

"What are you doing?" Asked James.

"Stretching my legs." She said. "Care to join?"

"Yes," answered James and stood, all his weight on his left side. He started stretching before realizing Sher wasn't joining him. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Your left hand." She said.

"What about it?"

"You leaned on it. Earlier you twitched when I touched it, James." She said. "How did you lean on it?"

"I guess it stopped hurting." He replied.

"No, it didn't." Understanding crept into Sher's mind, one bit at a time. "It never hurt at all, did it? You were pretending, you tricked me, you were working with him all along."

"Him?" Asked James, but his pretense worked on her no more.

"The man in the mask." She said. "The one who kidnapped me, who dosed me, who beat me up."

"Sher, I'm not working with him." Said James in a voice that was just a bit too calm, too steady.

"Why should I believe that?" She asked simply.

"Because I am him."

Sher watched him with shock. "No. No. No, that can't be... you can't be..." she mumbled.

"Only I am." He looked at her with this smile of his that once could've make Sher jump on him, but no more.

"Who are you?" She asked in disgust.

"Jim. Jim Moriarty." And that stupid smile again.

"What do you want from me?" She asked.

"From you? Nothing but cooperation." He said. "Do the talks I want you to. Say what I want you to."

"Why did you take me then?"

"To send your father into action."

"My father?" Sher was confused. "But Mycroft wasn't even there."

Moriarty laughed. It sounded like grating on a wall. "Mycroft, yes. Don't worry, he'll join the party soon enough." He said with a smile that was different from what she knew. It wasn't the smile she was used to. This wasn't James's smile this time. This was the smile of Jim Moriarty.


	10. Chapter 9

Sherlock and John wandered around the flat.

"There has to be something, Sherlock." John said, frustrated. "There must be something about him that may indicate where he is."

Sherlock held his head with his hands. "There is nothing, John." He said. "He could be anywhere around London."

"What are we supposed to do then?" John asked. "This girl must be terrified. She don't know what had happened or where is she. And she is held by a maniac."

"I don't know what he want me to do." Said Sherlock. "I have no lead whatsoever."

"Find one!" John said, angry.

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply when there was a knock on the door. He glimpsed to the clock. It was almost one a.m. Who could be visiting at such an hour?

When he opened the door Mycroft stood there, holding something in his hand.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" He asked impatiently.

"I need your help."

The mere words took Sherlock by surprise, and he could easily see Mycroft was just as surprised as him.

"It's not a good time." Sherlock said. "I'm on a case."

"Is that a matter of life and death?" Mycroft asked. "Because that is."

"Yes," said Sherlock, irritated, "it is a matter of life and death."

He was about to close the door when Mycroft spoke again.

"It's concerning the reason I was at the hospital today." He said, clearly annoyed from the need to use that card.

Sherlock hesitated for a second. On the one hand, Mycroft was offering telling him what he wanted to know all day long. On the other hand, there was a riddle from Moriarty he needed solve.

"Sherlock!" John called suddenly. "There's another call."

In an instant, Sherlock decided.

"Come in," he told Mycroft, "and be quite."

They walked to the kitchen where John sat. As he saw them, he pressed the 'answer' button.

"Hello?" He said.

"Hello, John." They all heard it. The voice that came out of that phone wasn't the girl again. It was Jim Moriarty himself speaking to them. "Have you solved my puzzle yet?"

"Where's the girl?" John asked.

"Not as cooperative as earlier." Moriarty replied.

John and Sherlock switched quick glimpses. "Is she..."

"Alive. That is all you need to know."

John's voice was confident. "I want prove."

"Prove, yes." Said Moriarty. "Come, dear. Let's give these men prove."

There was a struggle and a short high-pitched scream and then the girl returned to the phone.

"Say something." They could hear Moriarty saying in the background.

"Go to hell." The woman said and Moriarty pulled her off the phone once again.

"Prove enough?" He asked.

"Yes." Said John.

"By the way, I've been wondering, has Mycroft arrived yet?"

Sherlock looked at his brother. All conversation long he was out of focus, but to the sound of the female voice his focus returned. He dropped what he was holding in his hand, and leaned on the table in order not to fall down.

"Yes," Said John, "he's here."

Moriarty said "how exciting" and hung up.

"What is it?" The detective asked his brother. "What had happened?"

"It's my fault. It's all my fault." Mycroft said, his head in his hands.

John lifted the object off the floor. "It's a wig." He said.

"Mycroft." Sherlock said, his voice steady. "What do you know? It might be a matter of life and death."

Mycroft lifted his look to Sherlock's eyes. "It is a matter of life and death," he said, "And it's all my fault." He took a deep breath and started talking.

"I was at the hospital today not alone. I was with a girl, a woman." Mycroft sighed. "But you knew that already. I invited her to dinner last night, she agreed."

"You had a date?" Asked John, amazed.

"No, it was nothing like this." Mycroft seemed irritated that John didn't understand. "She... I knew her mother."

"Knew?" The word hadn't slipped from Sherlock's ears.

"Dead. I'm the only family the girl have. On dinner we relived an argument that started right after her mother's passing. We fought, I left. Came back to apologize and," he lowered his look to the wig in John's hand, "she was gone. I found the wig on the pavement and knew there was something wrong."

"How?" John asked.

"She hated the wig, yes, but she never took it off where people might see her. There's no way it was on the ground because she agreed to it."

But Sherlock was not listening. "We must know everything about her if we'd like to save her." He said, wandering around. "She's the key to her own rescue. What type of cancer did she have?"

"Leukemia."

Sherlock stopped. "Did she get a bone narrow donation?"

Mycroft hesitated.

"It might be important," Sherlock said.

"Yes." Mycroft finally said.

"From whom?" Sherlock asked. "She had no family, the chances of-"

"She did," John said. "Had family, that is. Didn't she, Mycroft?"

"Mycroft," Sherlock said, "did you give her the bone narrow?" Mycroft hadn't replied, and Sherlock continued. "You did, didn't you?"

"I was a match." Mycroft said. "A perfect match. Do you know the odds? What was I to do, let her die? Yes, I gave her the bone narrow donation."

"You have a daughter?"

"No." Mycroft said, frustrated. "I'm not the father."

"You spoke of odds? Well, the odds of a non-family related donor, especially one who was acquainted to the patient is so small that it's impossible." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock." John said.

"So you must be family related to her, there's no other option." Sherlock continued, ignoring John.

"I am family related to her," said Mycroft. "Just not get father."

"Who is her father then?"

"Sherlock." John said. "Take a look."

"What?" Sherlock said, irritated. He came to John and looked at the wig. In it was a writing: 'Belonging of Sher A. Lucas.'

"Sher." Said John in disbelief. "Her mother actually named her Sher."

"Yes, Jenna had always been a bit sentimental," Mycroft said.

"She's..." Sherlock was shocked. "I'm..."

"I told you, Sherlock. Sher is not my daughter." Mycroft said, looking at his brother. "She's yours."


	11. Chapter 10

Sher laid on the cold floor. Her body was suffering from the tiredness and the abuse it went through in the past few hours. Moriarty was standing atop her, looking down at his uncooperative prisoner.

"In a quarter of an hour," said the man who pretended to love her, "There will be the third call. You will speak to them. You will do as you're told. You will not whine or disturb what I'm attempting to achieve. Understood?"

She looked at him, hate running through her veins to the man she shared bed with in the past months. "No." She said.

He kicked her stomach and all the air was out of her lungs.

"No." She managed, breathless.

He kicked her again. "You will talk." He said.

"No."

Another kick. "You will say what I tell you."

Aching body. Aching everything. "No."

"You will do as I say." He said with another kick.

"Or what?" She looked up at him. "You can't... hurt me any... more than... you already have."

"No," Moriarty said contemplatively, "you don't respond to pain, do you? But you respond to promises."

"What?" She asked, not understanding.

"You wouldn't do the first talk until I promised you could see James." He Said. "So I will promise you something now, too."

"And what do you think..." breathing through the pain, "you can offer me?"

"I will let you talk." He looked at her. "With your own words, your own voice. You could talk to Dr. Watson."

Sher looked at him, disbelieving. "And how could I know... if you're lying?" She asked.

"You can't." He replied with a smile. "But will you truly take that chance?"

"I'll make the call." She mumbled.

"What?" He asked.

"You heard me perfectly well," she said.

"Yes, I did," he replied, "but I still want to hear you again."

"I'll make the call." She said, loud and clear. "Happy?"

"Very much, yes." He said and pulled out the phone.

They answered on first dial.

"Hello?" Said Watson.

"Hello, John." Sher said, repeating the words Moriarty was whispering in her ear. "How are you guys going on?"

"We know who the girl is." John said. "We know all about her."

"Well, if you haven't found her yet I guess you don't know everything." She was too well aware of his hand on her shoulder, his breath on her neck.

"It's just a matter of time."

"Oh," her voice didn't pass the laugh in Moriarty's voice. "But you have no time. Two hours has passed already."

"And we have six more." The voice in the phone said.

"Not anymore. Now you have two."

"Two hours?" Watson asked in surprise.

"To make things more interesting." Moriarty whispered in her ear and she said to Dr. Watson. "Somebody here wants to talk to you." This was her sign, she knew, and started talking. "It's me, Sher." She could hear the tension in the room at the other side of the line relaxing and panicked. "If anybody but Dr. Watson speaks, he'll hang up."

There were a few seconds of silence before a reply came from the other side of the line.

"Call me John." He said. "Dr. Watson is too official. How are you? How does he treat you?"

"He treats me ok," Sher said, hesitated and added "but I'm still hurt."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically."

There was a short gasp from the other side of the line. "Sexually?" John asked, angry.

"No." She was quick to relax him. "He never made me do anything against my will."

There was silence, in which Sher remembered of something important she must not forget. But it was not for the ears of everyone.

"How many people are listening?" She asked.

"Three." John replied.

"Who?"

"Myself," he said, "your father and your uncle."

"Uncle?" She said, confused. "Mycroft has a..." but then understanding had arrived and she connected the final dots. Mycroft insisted he is not her father, and he was true.

"No." She said. "No, that can't be. It can't be. John, please tell me it's not true."

"I'm sorry," he said, apology true in his voice.

Suddenly she realized Mycroft was listening. "You liar!" She screamed. "Liar! Why the one thing I wanted to figure out as a lie is true? You lied to me since I was a child, couldn't you lie to me about this, too? Why is everything in my life a lie?" She cried out and started weeping. It was only later when she relaxed she even noticed the phone was hung up.


	12. Chapter 11

"You didn't tell her? How could you not tell her?"

Sherlock was furious, yelling at his brother insults and holding himself in order not to smack the idiot. "And now, she's stuck with a madman, not certain will she see another sunrise in her life, and finding out the only person she thought she could trust is a liar."

"She always knew I'm lying. She found out about that when her mother was hospitalized for the first time." Mycroft said quietly, annoyingly calm towards the situation.

"And you think that makes it better?" Sherlock yelled. John put a relaxing brother on his friend.

"Her mother," he said, "tell us more about her."

"Not that difficult, how many women was Sherlock with?" Mycroft said and Sherlock was all over him.

"Really, brother," he said, "is now really the time to talk about it?"

Mycroft sighed. "Jenna. Jenna Lucas. She was just some girl Sherlock was with when he was... during the time he... he had problems."

"Problems?" John asked, "What problems?"

"Unimportant, John." Said Sherlock. "Mycroft. Continue."

"After she found out she had a baby, she got clean. She went to a rehab facility where they did the baby tests. And they found a match to the identity of the father." He looked at them. "It was a partial match to myself, I am in the database. They called me and told me, and I paid them off to silence them. When she was released, I came to her and told her who I was. I made sure they will move to a different country, made sure the girl will have all she needed. I came to every birthday. Her mother's rehab never lasted long and so I took care of the child when she was... away."

Sherlock looked at his brother. "You became sentimental." He said.

"You cared." Said John.

"When her mother passed," Mycroft continued, unaware of their comments, "I was the only one she had left. But when she was ill and I donated, she figured out something was wrong."

"She thought you were her father."

"She realized I was more family related to her than I told her." Mycroft looked at his feet. "I should have told her back then."

"Yes, you should." Sherlock looked at his brother in disgust. "You should have told me. Told anybody."

"Well, it's too late now." Said John, calming down the fight between the two brothers who stood in the room. "Let's see what we can do now. Sher's a smart kid, she probably told us something that will help."

Sherlock rewind his brain to remember what she said. Who is she, no time, two hours, I can talk.

"She can talk." He said aloud. John looked at him, not understanding. "In the first call, she talked. In the second, she wouldn't and in the third, she was so cooperative he let her speak with us herself." He looked at the men in the room. "What had happened during those hours?"

He hurt her. Not physically. Not sexually. "She is hurt." He said.

"That wouldn't do." Mycroft said. "She's a strong girl. There's no way hurting her will make her do what he wants."

"He didn't hurt her physically." John said.

"Yes," Sherlock agreed to his friend's notion, "she is hurt. He hurt her. Not 'her' but her feelings, what could he do to hurt her feelings?"

"Hurt her boyfriend?"

Sherlock and John looked at Mycroft.

"What?" John asked.

"James, her boyfriend." He explained "They could have gotten to him and threaten to hurt him if she wouldn't do as she's told."

"But then she would do as she's told in the second conversation, too. Maybe he's safe now?" John offered an explanation.

"In that case, she would never agree to make the third call."

John and Mycroft continued to offer and rule out possibilities. And Sherlock looked out the window.

"He was never in any danger." He finally said.

"What?"

John and Mycroft looked at him, not understanding.

"Her boyfriend. He was never in any danger. Moriarty just wanted her to think he was." Sherlock looked at them. "'why is everything in my life a lie?'" He quoted. "Back then I thought she talked about you, but she had other people in her life, she had him." He paused. "Unless she didn't. What if she didn't had him? What if he was working with Moriarty all along?"

"And then," John said, understanding, "she agreed to the first call to keep him out of danger, angry at the second for finding out the truth and calm at the third so he'll let her talk to us."

They looked at Mycroft.

"No." He said, unconvinced. "They were really in love. No man is that cruel."

"No man but one." Sherlock said. "Alright, we need to find out everything we can about this James." He said and opened his laptop.


	13. Chapter 12

Sher was sitting on a chair Moriarty had brought her while he tied her to it.

"Why are you doing it?" She asked. "What's all the trouble about my father? He's just a man I never met."

"Oh, but I have," he replied, "and he made some strong first impression on me."

"Like what?"

"He pointed a gun at me, offered me info he stole from Mycroft to save Watson and called me gay." Moriarty said simply.

Sher looked at him. "I don't know much about the first two," she said, "but from my impression, you don't seem very gay."

"They will find us in about ten minutes." He said, changing the subject, "thanks to your lack of self-control."

"I'm sorry I wasn't more aware of what I said as my life were collapsing over me." Sher said poison in her voice.

"Don't worry, dear." He said. "After my last conversation with him you will be free to go."

"And I suppose you won't be speaking, will you?" Sher asked. "You expect me to talk for you, like before."

"One last time, and then you're free to go." Moriarty said and tightened the last rope so that Sher couldn't move.

"And if I don't?" She asked and he looked up at her.

"Then I'll make a single cut into your back and your lung will collapse." He said, taking a knife out of his clothes. "Very quick. Very painful. And you'll never get to meet your father in real life. Ready, sweetheart?" He asked and she nodded once, nervously and a bit angrily. "Let the show begin!" He said with a smile, just as the door had opened.

Through it went three men.

The first, Mycroft. Tall and confident as ever, the nervousness visible on him as he's playing with his fingers.

The second, the man she saw in the restaurant, which must be Dr. Watson. That is, John, as he requested she'd call him. He was shorter that she'd thought him to be seeing him sitting at the restaurant.

And the third. A tall skinny man wearing a dark coat, collar pulled up. He walked into the room last, but all the attention was directed to him. He observed the situation silently, his eyes looking at Moriarty, unread, before he passed them on to Sher herself. The clarity of his blue eyes surprised her, just as her eyes surprised him, she could see. She didn't believe anybody else in the room could see this invisible bond between them. The first look of a father to his daughter. And then he looked away, and the moment was gone. Moriarty whispered in her ear, and she repeated out loud.

"Hello." She said. "How are you, boys?" When no reply arrived she continued talking. "Mycroft, no respond? John, good as ever? Sherlock, seriously, Sherlock?" She asked and the pain in her arm made her sorry for it as Moriarty whispered in her ear.

"Say it aloud." He ordered. "Repeat it for them to hear."

When she did, her voice was filed with hatred. "I should never let go of my script. I was punished for a reason. Mycroft, one more step and I will cut a hole through her lung."

"Good." Moriarty whispered in her ear as Mycroft stood still in the middle of a step forward, surprised by the abrupt change of speaker.

"Fine." Someone said in a voice she never heard. It took her a moment to understand it was her father, and she's hearing him for the first time. "You have us here." He said. "You have her in your possession. What do you want?"

"Well, I want a lot of things." Sher said the words Moriarty whispered in her ear. "World peace, end poverty and all of that. But mostly, I want you to see how vulnerable you are. Between your little friend, your brother, and your daughter, I can do whatever I want. And you are unable to stop me."

Jane looked at the faces of the three men who stood before her. John and Mycroft's faces showed concern, but Sherlock radiated anger.

"Oh, don't be upset, Sherlock." She said. "Do you want me to tell you a secret?"

"What secret do you want me to hear?"

Moriarty whispered the answer in her ear. Her repulse from saying that, she decided, is stronger than anything he can do to her.

"No." She said and felt the metal going through her skin. She held back a scream. "I will not say that." Tears threatened to fall from her eyes and she held it in.

Sher could feel the appreciation Sherlock felt and John's whisper "I can see the family relation now." But it was not their reaction she wanted to see. She looked at Mycroft and saw the pain in his eyes and the silent prayer he wished for her to stop being as stubborn as she always were. No, it was not a prayer. It was an order, and suddenly she was a little girl again, asking questions he would not answer about where her mother is. If only he knew, she thought, he would have understood.

"If you want them to know it so bad, tell them yourself." She said to Moriarty in one final effort.

"Maybe I will." He said, and she heard the sound of the metal knife falling to the floor before the pain overcome her and she went into unconsciousness.


	14. Chapter 13

As the young woman collapsed into the sleep her tired, aching body had wanted, Sherlock looked at her quickly before turning his sight back to Moriarty who moved in front of the unconscious girl and was now blocking their path to her.

"Let me see her." John said worryingly. "I want to make sure she's alright."

"Don't worry," Mycroft said bitterly, "he wouldn't kill her. He just want to make us see her suffer."

"Well, if I won't look at her she might die off blood loss." John said.

Mycroft opened his mouth to reply but before he could say anything, Moriarty lifted a hand and they both went quite.

"I will let you examine her, Johnny boy, but not before Sherlock will hear my secret." Moriarty looked at Sherlock with a teasing look that left the latter no real choice.

"Fine." He said. "What do you want me to hear?"

In the couple of seconds before Moriarty replied, Sherlock was filled with a sudden dread. What could be so terrible the girl wouldn't say? He wondered. What could be so embarrassing to admit?

"I," Moriarty said, stretching every word as he's seeing the affect it is doing on Mycroft and, more annoyingly, on Sherlock himself. This was what pushed Sherlock over the edge.

"No." He said. "I will not listen. I will not do it."

"But aren't you curious, Sherlock?" Moriarty said with an annoying smile up on his face. "Aren't you curious to hear what I did to your daughter? What she did to me?" At that Sherlock knew he made the right choice. "Aren't you curious to learn how hard we did it? How good? How much she loved it and begged for more?"

Mycroft closed his eyes, as if not seeing Moriarty talking could guard him from the words he was saying. John was startled, but Sherlock was surprisingly calm.

"'He never forced me to do anything' she told you." Moriarty continued and Sherlock's fists tightened against his will. "That was true. I never forced her to do anything. She did it all because she enjoyed it."

Sherlock stared at Moriarty. "Are you done?" He asked. "Can John go and look at her?"

"No." Moriarty said. "You weren't listening. That's not what I wanted to tell you. It was the little details. The little, dirty details. How she screamed, what she said, the look on her face when she was over." He looked at Mycroft. "What about you? Does dear uncle Mycroft want to hear about this part he never knew about his little girl? Do you want to hear the stories she told me? I must say, I was surprised. Never thought of you as the kind that lifts a little girl on his knees and tells her stories about the tooth fairy to help her relax from a fallen tooth."

Mycroft had opened his eyes. They were looking straight at Moriarty.

"You're a monster." He said "You will pay for this."

"How adorable." Moriarty replied. "You think you can convict me with something and lock me up?"

"I don't need to convict you to lock you up." Mycroft said, hatefully. "All I need is a room with no doors or windows."

The two men looked at each other, filling the room with tension when John interrupted.

"Can I go and look at her before she dies?" He asked, the tension reaching his voice along with everything else he felt.

"Yes," Moriarty said, his eyes still on Mycroft, "but don't think of doing anything stupid, Johnny. I've reached one daughter. Don't fool yourself into thinking I cannot reach another."

At that John was taken back. A direct threat on Amelie, from this madman. Even Sherlock felt concern for a moment. They must call Mary the instant they can.

Meanwhile, John put on his soldier expression, a blank, emotionless face. His moves were stiff and he seemed unconnected to his body. But as he reached the woman outstretched on the chair she was tied to, his focus returned and he started to take care of Sher's wounds. Mycroft followed him carefully, but Sherlock looked back at Moriarty.

"So what now?" He asked. "What do you want? Are you going to walk out? Take her with you and leave us here? Kill all of us?"

Behind Moriarty's back he could see the girl waking up, the ties that held her to the chair loose enough for her to pull herself out and give John a severe look to keep quite.

"I haven't decided yet." Moriarty said. "I think it depends on whether or not you will be good. So far," he smiled viciously, "you're doing a lousy job. I suppose I'll- Argh!" He screamed as the knife Sher pulled from the floor found its way to his thigh.

"You stupid bitch!" He yelled and grasped what little hair Sher had.

"Run!" The girl screamed. "All of you, just run."

John was already halfway to the door but Mycroft hadn't moved a bit.

"I'm not leaving without you!" He said determinedly.

"Stop being a fool, Mycroft!" Sherlock could hear the frustration in her voice. He saw the plea in her eyes through the pain and as she looked at him, he knew she was right.

"Oh, no, Mycroft, please do continue being a fool." Moriarty said. "And then you can stay here and watch me punishing your little girl for her stupidity."

Sherlock grabbed his brother's arm.

"It will be no good." He said. "Staying here won't make the difference for her. But it would for you."

He started pulling his brother outside, and eventually Mycroft stopped resisting. When they reached the door, Sherlock looked inside the room again.

Sher was lying on the floor and Moriarty pulled the knife out of his thigh and started tearing her clothes off. The look was unbearable.

"Stay outside." He told Mycroft and John and then came back in. He ran towards Sher and Moriarty and, with a single punch the detective did not know where he had the strength to make, Moriarty was thrown away. Sherlock lifted the torn up body that was his daughter, and fled the room as quickly as possible.

In his arms, safe again, Sher sunk back into the emptiness of sleep.

**So. It was really fun and challenging writing this story and I wish to thank everybody who read it.**

**Over the next couple of days I will change the description of the story, since from now on the story will become less of saving the now-saved Sher, and more of how she is dealing with the events that she went through and of how Sherlock is learning to become a father to a damaged 19 y.o.**

**I hope you will continue to love it, if you have any questions or anything to say at all, please be welcome to write it in the comments. Remember - it is both for you to say what's on your mind and for me to understand what should I change or keep further on.**

**Thank you again for reading this far!**


	15. Chapter 14

**AN: So that is the beginning of the second part of the story. I am less certain of that part than I was while writing everything that came so far, so reviews will be appreciated. I will try and get Moriarty scenes in it. Hope you would like it.**

* * *

When she woke up, Sher was in a hospital bed. A guard stood out of her door, most likely Mycroft's doing. The man himself stood in the hall, speaking to one of her doctors. Sherlock and John were nowhere to be seen. She looked at Mycroft for a minute or so, trying to decide whether or not she want to talk to him. Just as she decided the answer was no, he looked at her.

Quickly she turned to the other side and pretended to sleep, but she knew it was no use. She heard him walking into the room and sitting on the chair next to her bed.

"I know you're awake, Sher." He said. She kept her eyes closed. "I spoke to your doctors. They say that they believe the cuts will heal neatly, there might not even be a scar." As no response arrived, he continued. "The Yard are in the warehouse you were kept in. By the time they were there Moriarty was gone, but they're looking for clues." Sher still hadn't looked at him. "Look, I know you don't want me here-"

"Good. That saves me the need to tell you that." Sher replied, her eyes staring at the window on the opposite side of the room from him. "Now go. I don't want you here."

"Sher..."

"Don't." She turned at him, angry. "Don't bother explaining, because I won't listen to you."

"I did what I thought was the best thing for you." He said.

"Maybe it's true." She said. "And you know what, maybe it was best for me. But I simply can't see it now."

"Sher..." Mycroft tried again.

"She said go, then go."

Sher hadn't even noticed John had entered the room until he spoke.

"She doesn't want you here." He told Mycroft. "So leave, before I'll find someone who will make you leave."

Mycroft got up and looked as Sher. "I'm sorry." He said again and left. John walked to the chair where Mycroft was and sat on it.

"That is a terribly uncomfortable chair." He laughed, but Sher was in no mood for jokes. John's smile slid off his face and he sat with her quietly, until she broke the silence.

"What's your daughter's name?" She asked.

John was surprised. "How do you know I have a daughter?" He asked.

"Because of what James... Jim... Moriarty said." She finally managed.

"I hadn't known you were conscious when he said it." John said. Sher said nothing. "Is what he said true?" He changed the subject. "Did you... you two really..."

"I'm nineteen years old. He was my boyfriend. What do you think?" She asked, not elaborating further.

After a couple of minutes, John broke the silence. "Amelie." He said. "She's only a few months old."

"Did you call your wife?"

John nodded.

"Did you told her to run?"

He smiled. "My wife is more than capable to protect herself and Amelie from Moriarty." He said.

"Nobody is capable of protecting himself from Moriarty." Sher said doubtfully. "Unless she's a trained murderer or something of that sort."

"Well, in that case I guess we're lucky." He said, and Sher couldn't but smile.

"Seriously?" She asked and John nodded.

"Hadn't known it until after she was pregnant." He said. "Could have killed her for that."

"Apparently you couldn't," Sher said with a smile and both of them burst into laughter.

Out of the blue, her laughter turned to tears and she started crying. The crazy, uncontrolled kind. And there she was, embarrassing herself in front of this stranger. And she couldn't but hate herself for the fact that all she wanted was James. But there was no James.

Someone crawled into her bed, hugged her and calmed her down and she held on to him, sobbing and tearing. His hand tapped clumsily on her back, as if he is not certain what to do. His voice was soft and familiar and it took her a mere second to realize it was her father. His hands held her, as certain and strong as they were when he carried her away from that godforsaken warehouse. And just as it was then, she fell asleep in his arms.


	16. Chapter 15

"Eight hundred and eighty seven times eight hundred and eighty eight."

"Eight times eight is 64. So that gives us seven one zero four. We've got one zero in the first and two in the second for seven eight eight five four four take one off and we've got seven hundred and eighty seven thousand, six hundred and fifty six."

John turned around the calculator to Sher direction. It showed the number 787656, just as she said.

"I never saw you doing that." He told Sherlock.

"When I was young Mycroft tested me with math problems." Sher explained. "As I grew older, the calculations became more complicated."

"And yet he told you nothing of deduction?" Sherlock asked, amazed.

"Thinking back that probably would have been the better thing to do," she replied, "but I like the numbers. They're easier to understand than people."

"Do you want more numbers?" John asked her.

"No," She said, "You pick easy ones."

"These are the easy ones?" He asked with a smile.

"They're too similar to each other." Sherlock explained. "Here, try this. Two hundred and forty nine times six hundred and eighty four."

Sher sighed. "I'll just play on the base of two hundred fifty and reach one hundred and seventy one thousand, take one off and you're left with..." a moment's pause and then: "one seven zero three one six."

"Correct again!" John declared and Sher smiled proudly.

Though he could see John's astonishment and Sher's pride, Sherlock couldn't bear to stay in the room. He walked out in the excuse of searching for tea and luckily, neither of them pointed out that there's tea in the room. Once he's out, he sat on a chair and thought what need to be done next.

Sher is completely broken. Though hiding it very well from John and the doctors, once she's alone with Sherlock she let herself take the mask off.

She is sad for the loss of a person she loved and thought he loved her back. She's hurt by all the lies Mycroft had told her and though she hates him now, she still care about him. Her body is healing, but her mind is a wreck and she doesn't have the tools for fixing it, and neither do Sherlock.

When he came back into the room, Sher was sitting on her bed, negotiating with John. Sherlock stood next to the bed and listened, and as he did he realized it was no negotiation. It was John trying to convince Sher who was stubbornly unconvinced.

"I will not talk to the Scotland Yard." She said, and John sighed.

`"It's been a week, Sher." He said. "If you won't do it soon, it will be invalid."

"Like it would make a difference." She said. "You won't get him. He's too smart for it."

"It will help you to talk about it," John insisted.

"I'm talking about it with you two."

"That's not enough." John sighed. "Sher, what you went through... it's not something to deal with alone. If you won't talk to the Yard, talk to Mycroft." He tried.

"Or," she replied, "I will talk to neither. You can't force me to talk."

John looked at Sherlock, asking for his help.

"If you will talk to the Yard," Sherlock said, "I will make sure they will let you out of the hospital."

Sher's face lightened. "Can you do that?" She asked him. "Can he do that?" She asked John.

"No, he can't." John replied and added, "Sherlock you can't control it. She is hospitalized. It's not something you can change."

"I'm her father." Sherlock said. "I can change whatever I want. And besides," he added seeing John's upcoming argument, "she's healthy. Her wounds are healing. There is no need for her to stay here any longer. She should never had stayed longer than a night anyway."

All of them knew it was Mycroft who kept her in the hospital, where even if she won't let him see her He can still get updates on her status from his men outside the door.

"Sherlock." John said. "You can't do it. He won't let you do it."

"As if I care." Sher said, answering in three stead of her father. "I don't understand how he stopped me from leaving so far. I'm a grown woman, he shouldn't be able to have so much control over me."

She stared at John with a look that can kill and he had no choice but giving up.

"Alright," he said, "but let me tell you this - he is not going to like it."


	17. Chapter 16

As far as Sher was concerned, she could not care less whether or not Mycroft would like it.

When the man from the Scotland Yard had arrived, Sher was in a far better mood than what she was in since all broke down. He introduced himself as Detective Inspector Lastrad and started questioning her.

"I'm going to ask you some questions about the night between the 14th and the 15th of September. It's that alright?" He asked and Sher nodded. "Good. Start telling me what had happened."

"I was walking out of Arnie's around 10pm." She started and as she did all she felt during the attack came back to her. The fear she felt, the helplessness, the lack of ability to resist. Sher saw the look on John and Sherlock's faces and realized it was the first time they heard the story, too. She took comfort in their expressions and continued speaking. When she was done, Lastrad looked at her with appreciation.

"You are a very brave girl." He said, smiling at her. "I will make sure you can leave by the hour." He added and left the room.

John and Sherlock turned to Sher.

"You were brilliant." Said Watson.

"As soon as the nurse will arrive with the permission to leave, we will escort you home." Added Sherlock.

"You don't have to." Said Sher. "My flat is a five minutes' walk from here, I can do this by myself."

"I know you can," her father replied, "It doesn't mean you should."

"I'm not a child." Sher frowned.

"I never say you were. But the last time you wandered by yourself, Moriarty got to you, and I can't let it happen again."

Sher sighed, understanding. "Fine." She said. "But I'm not happy about it."

"You don't have to be," John said jointly, "as long as you understand."

When the nurse came to free her home, Jane walked with John and Sherlock.

"It's pretty messy," she said.

"Don't worry about it." John said. "Sherlock doesn't mind and I won't judge. If you want to, I can help you organize it."

"That will be nice, thank you." Sher said politely, but as they reached the flat, she hesitated a bit.

"I never showed anyone this place." She admitted. "Even Mycroft never saw where I live."

"It's alright." Sherlock said. "You don't have to let us in if you don't want to."

"I do! Want to, that is. I'm just nervous." She took a deep breath and opened the door. "It's not big." She said. There was just the kitchen, connected to a small living room, the bathroom and the bedroom.

"It's lovely." John said, but Sherlock said nothing. She knew he was taking in the feeling of the place, trying to use it to understand the daughter he learnt to have. From time to time, Sher had to remind herself the situation of having a daughter was new to him, just as much as having a father was to her.

"It's nice." He finally said, seeing John's face, waiting for reaction.

Sher smiled nervously. "I'm rather tired." She said. "I think I'll go to sleep."

"Yes, of course," Sherlock stood quickly. "Would you like us to stay?"

"No." Sher said quickly. "It's ok. You can go. Not that I mind," she added, realizing how unwelcoming she sounded, "it's just that... you don't have to... if you don't want to go..."

Sherlock put a relaxing hand on her shoulder. The fatherly act relaxed her.

"It's ok." He said. "Lastrad probably have a case for me, and John has a wife, and daughter to go to. Are you sure you'll be fine?" Sher nodded nervously. "In that case, we'll go."

They left and Sher was left alone in her apartment. She started organizing and as she did, she couldn't help but feel a tiny sting in her heart every time she saw something of James'. Eventually she was done and she went to her bed. She tried to sleep but couldn't, feeling the presence of James in the bed, with her. As she moved to the couch, she heard a sound.

"Hello?" She asked, but no reply arrived. Convincing herself it was only her imagination, Sher closed her eyes. The sound of footsteps on the floor woke her up.

"Is anybody there?" She asked, not sure if she'd rather no reply at all, or to hear the voice of the man haunting the flat.

She could hear the crack of the broken window in the bathroom, the wind howling over the trees at the street. She closed her eyes again, only to discover she was afraid of opening it once again.

When there was a knock at the door, she jumped in fear. She stood up and went to it, cautiously.

"Hello?" She asked the door and was relieved to hear the voice from the other side of it being Mycroft's.

"It's me," he said, "I just wanted to check in on you, I heard you went home today. I can go if you don't want me here." He added, hearing no reply.

"No!" She said, a bit too eagerly for her liking, while opening the door for him. "You can come in if you want."

He walked in and observed the flat quickly while she closed the door behind him.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked, heading to the kitchen.

"Yes, that would be nice." He replied, and sat at the table.

She heated the water and grabbed two cups. She laid it on the table and went for some milk from the refrigerator. As she closed it, she couldn't but notice the picture on it. James and her, hugged at the wedding of one of her high school friends three months back.

They looked so happy back then, no one who looked at this picture could imagine it was all a pretense.

As she realized Mycroft was also watching the picture, she turned at him and put the teapot, the milk and the sugar on the table.

"I know you hate me now." He said, breaking the tension in the kitchen.

"I don't exactly hate you," she said, "it's just that I was surprised, and hurt." She saw his understanding look, but still felt the need to explain. "Much came on me at once. You see, between being kidnapped, and learning about Sherlock and Jam- Moriarty, I needed time to process things."

"And that is fine," he said softly, "but now when you had that time, will you listen to what I say, to my part of the story?" Sher nodded. "When your parents met, they were both addicts. Your mother got clean for you, but no-one knows better than you she had her relapses, and just how badly they affected you, as her daughter."

As he spoke, Sher remembered parts of her mother's worst times. They were living abroad, it was in a small house in a French village that her mother had her first drop off. Sher was barely four years old but even now she could bring up every single detail from her memory. The stench that was in the bedroom when she walked in after her mother hadn't answered her, the look on the neighbors' faces when she went to them for help, Mycroft coming to the hospital, meeting her for the first time.

She was mature for her age back then already, but the experience had brought on the understanding of how strong she will have to be, for there wasn't really anyone that will be strong for her.

She remembered being suspicious towards Mycroft at first, but as the night went on and he was still there, she felt more confident around him. When she woke up in the morning, realizing she fell asleep and that he was still there, she truly opened up for him for the first time.

"Imagine two parents like that." Mycroft now said, pulling her back into present time. "No child deserves that. By the time Sherlock had gotten clean, you were six. Along with your mother, the decision was made not to interrupt your all too shaken life by letting you know about him and from that point on, the lies just piled. I'm sorry you had to learn the truth the way you did," he said, truly sorry, "but by the time I realized the lie was wrong, there was no right way to reveal the truth, you see?"

Sher saw, and understood. And yet it bugged her, deep inside.

"I understand you only wanted my best," she said, "but it doesn't mean I forgive you. You still lied to me, and avoided the truth when I asked you directly about it, so it will be a long time before I will forgive you entirely."

"For now I will simply be glad if you spoke to me again."

Sher smiled softly. "I'd love that."


	18. Chapter 17

That night, when Sher fell asleep, the broken window in the bathroom cracked as a dark figure came in. The man wore a black suit, which he straighten once he stood in the darkness of the flat, only interrupted by the string of light that came from the open window. If anybody watched him come in they might have wondered how one can climb wearing such clothes, but he made sure no one saw him in, as they would also call the police. The man knew he could have gotten through the front door, he had a key, but he wouldn't take the risk of being spotted by one of Mycroft's men.

Slowly he walked through the door and into the apartment. Finding the bedroom empty he worried he might have missed her leaving, but the worry calmed itself as he saw the figure on the couch.

He looked down at the sleeping woman. She wore what she usually wore when she slept - a loose shirt, one size too big, and short black pants who revealed two long, sexy legs.

He came to her silently, taking her by surprise. His hand covered her mouth and she woke up immediately, attempting escape. He knew she had a very light sleep, so that this simple action will wake her up, but even for her it was rather quickly.

"Shhh." He said. "You can't run away from me here."

Sher tried to hit him, but he blocked her and laughed viciously.

"Don't worry." Said the voice that haunted her dreams. "I won't kidnap you again. But I believe I owe you a punishment you ran away from last time we met." And with that he started taking off her shirt. As she tried to resist, he said, "I have some drug I can use if you're not doing as I want. It will be much easier to let go."

"Why are you doing this?" She asked.

"Why don't you ask your dear uncle? I heard he was here today and you two had a nice little chat."

"No." As much as she tried to hide the hurt in her voice, she knew he can still hear it. "You can blame Mycroft of a lot of things. Who knows better than me? But this? This is on you."

She tried to escape again, but it was no use as it didn't stop him from doing what he want. So she stopped. He smiled and took what was left of her shirt off. Next were her shorts, and then her underwear. She covered herself, protecting her intimate parts from his look.

"What's the use?" He asked. "It's not like I haven't seen any of it before."

She knew he was right. He also wasn't going to do anything they hadn't done before, but it was different knowing who he really was.

"Why?" She asked.

"I told you already. You need to be punished." He replied simply.

"No." She said. "Not this. Why did you get so close to me? Why getting to know me? Why making me fall in love with you? Why couldn't you just kidnap me anyway?"

"Not as fun."

"No, that's not it. You were curios." She said bitterly. "You wanted to know if the little girl raised by Mycroft would be as unbelievable as her father."

"Well," he looked at her, anger in his eyes for her ability to read him so well, "if you know me so well maybe you can tell me – what did I thought of you?"

"I think you found me unbelievable. Though not in the way you imagined." She looked at him, checking his face to see if she was right. Finding she is, she continued. "You thought Mycroft would teach me deduction. You thought I would be emotionless, like Sherlock. You never expected me to be sensitive, you never expected my field to be math. You never expected me to be strong-minded. So you took it as your challenge to break me. Well, guess what?"

She gathered every bit of power she still had left and looked at the man she was at his mercy.

"I have survived cancer." She said slowly. "I survived chemotherapy. I survived living with a drug addict mother, moving around all the time and you know what it taught me?"

"What did it teach you?" He asked.

"Always stall long enough to find the weak spot." And with that she bend her knee right into his sensitive spot. She got up and tried to run to the door but it was locked.

"You didn't really think I would be this stupid, did you?" He asked, stepping towards her and grabbing her by her hands, which felt as if they are being ripped out. He threw her on the couch and held her still.

As he went on top of her, she couldn't help but wanting to run as far as she can at that instant. The aching feeling in her wrists showed her that wasn't an option, so she closed her eyes in a desire to wait until it was all over. He grabbed her hair, causing her hands to go instantly to her head, her eyes to be filled with tears.

"You will look at me." He said. "You have to face the consequences of your actions."

She looked at him, her eyes filed with hatred. She had hoped her face doesn't show how much she wanted him to finish already, so that he will let her go. He seemed to be pushing the end as far as he managed, but eventually, he was over. He got up and dressed himself. By the time Sher found the strength to look back up, he was already back out the window.

Sher dragged herself to the bathroom. She attempted to close the window and cursed as she failed to do it. She was suddenly aware that she is naked, and though nobody could see her, she covered herself with her hands.

She fell, rather than climbed into the shower and rubbed her skin until it hurt and furthermore, hoping that both her body and her mind would accept the numbness she wished it to get. When she washed herself, the water relaxed her body. Her mind, however, was a dazzling pain she was not ready to face just yet. She forced herself out and walked into the closet, searching for something clean to wear. She grabbed the first shirt she could get her hands on and a pair of jeans and walked to the kitchen in order to make herself something to drink.

The simple actions calmed her down and helped her mind comprehend what had happened. He was in the flat, she realized. He was on the couch. He was on her and in her, and she could do nothing about it. She crushed into the ground, her legs unable to keep her steady.

Sitting as she did on the kitchen floor, finally alone again, Sher curled into herself and burst into tears.


	19. Chapter 18

Sherlock woke up in his bed when light shone over the flat. He could hear John making noises in the kitchen and was partly angry on his former flat mate for waking him up and partly surprised that he slept here and not at his home where Mary and Amelie were.

As the events of the previous night came back to him, things started making sense.

It was not John in the kitchen. It was Sher. She came last night and asked to sleep here. When he asked her why, she didn't reply, only asked again if there is a bed for her, saying she didn't mind the couch. Sherlock ruled out the option and offered her John's empty room.

Sherlock got out of bed and dressed himself properly before heading to the kitchen. He found Sher making French toast and watched her as she made the table, unaware of his presence.

"You're smiling." She suddenly said. Perhaps she wasn't as unaware of his presence as Sherlock thought her to be.

"You look adorable in this outfit." She wore black loose jeans and a male t-shirt. And she did in fact looked adorable.

She looked down at her shirt and frowned. When the food was ready, she piled it in two plates and served it to the table. Sherlock broke the silence when they ate.

"Would you tell me now why you are here?" He asked.

"I didn't want to be at home." She said.

"What had happened?"

"Nothing." Sher replied. "Why something has to happen for me not to want to be at home?"

"Because in the past week all you talked about was how much you wanted to be home. He said. "And now you're here. So something must've happened."

Sher silenced.

"Let's start with something else." Sherlock tried. "How did you leave home without Mycroft's men seeing you? They're not here," He said, pointing at the window, "So Mycroft doesn't know you're not at home, yet."

"I left out the window." She finally said.

"The window?" Sherlock was amazed. "What made you think of that?" He asked, smiling.

Sher whispered. "I figured if he managed to get in without being seen, I'll manage to get out."

The smile slid off Sherlock's face. "He came in?" He asked.

"He said..." Sher took a deep breath. "He said that he owed me a punishment for what happened in the warehouse. And that I can't get away from it this time."

Sherlock tried to remember what had happened in the warehouse requiring punishment. The image of Moriarty on top of Sher, ripping her shirt apart, came to his mind.

"He…" He asked, suddenly afraid to continue the question. Sher nodded. "That Bastard." He mumbled. "I will kill him. I will find him and kill him."

"You can't." Sher said. She sounded defeated. "He's untouchable and you know that."

The sound of her voice brought Sherlock back to reality. She was hurt, he realized. What this girl went through, no one should ever deserve. She was kidnapped and humiliated, mentally tormented by someone she loved. She was heartbroken, and hurt. And that all without considering her childhood: constantly moving, never staying long, dragged along with her addict mother rather than having a home. The only person keeping her calm is Mycroft, whom she couldn't even face, because he lied to her about the one thing she ever wanted to know. Losing her mother to illness, losing herself in her own cancer. Who this girl once was? He wondered. Who might she be had Mycroft told her the truth about her father? Would she be better? Or would life with him only wrecked her even more? He reached out and touched his daughter's hand. She looked exhausted.

"Did you sleep last night?" He asked.

Sher nodded.

"If you're going to lie, you should do it more convincingly." Sherlock said and Sher smiled, half amused. "I can't sleep." She admitted. "I'm too afraid."

"Nightmares?"

She shook her head. "I never get close enough for those." She said. "I'm afraid to close my eyes. Afraid of what I'll see when I open them up."

"Do you want me to give you pills?" Sherlock asked. "It will help you sleep. And I promise the only thing you'll see when you open up your eyes is me." As she nodded, he went to the closet where he kept his pills and pulled out the box where the sleeping pills were. He wondered whether he should take two, before deciding that if one won't do the job, no amount will.

Sher took the pills in the kitchen before heading to the bedroom that was now her own. She mumbled something to Sherlock about how she can get there alone before she stumbled and would fell unless he grabbed her arm and held her. By the time they reached her bed, she was half asleep. Sherlock tucked her in and kissed her forehead very softly before going down the stairs and calling his brother.

No matter what were her feelings towards him as the moment, Sher needed Mycroft to help her get through this. And before he went mad finding out Sher's empty flat, Mycroft had to know where she was, and that she was safe.

Scarcely ten minutes after had they spoken over the phone, had Mycroft arrived to 221b. He burst into the room without knocking and only stopped when Sherlock rose for him.

"Relax." The younger brother told his elder. "You're playing right to his hands, this is what he wants and you're giving it to him."

"I don't care what he wants, I don't care if I'm giving it to him. I will find him and kill him." Mycroft said. "I will kill him for what he did to her." His voice cracked and he looked away from Sherlock. "I just can't do it anymore." He said. "She can't open up to me enough to tell me this herself. I have to hear it from you. And Moriarty, that thing he's doing to her. He broke her, Sherlock. He broke her heart and she can't get herself over it. And there's nothing I can do about it."

As much as he would deny it if he was ever asked, Sherlock did care about his brother. He knew how hard out must be for him, though not showing it, to see the pain this child is in and not being able to help. But Mycroft put on his mask of emotionlessness and simply stared at the wall.

Finally, Sherlock spoke.

"Would you like to go and see her?"

Mycroft nodded silently and followed his brother up the stairs.


	20. Chapter 19

"Go to bed. You must be tired."

Sher slept through the entire day and the following night. It was a haunted sleep, after she woke up entirely, Mycroft told her she woke up several times. She couldn't remember any of it, but she knew he was there all along, judging by the black circles under his eyes and the troubled look they had. She knew he called down the fears she couldn't recall now. And she knew he must be tired.

"It will be good for you, Mycroft. You should really get some sleep." She said, trying again to convince him to sleep.

"I can't." He said, and she could hear in his voice all he didn't say, all the reasons he couldn't sleep, he probably hadn't slept since that dinner at the seafood restaurant.

"I'll be fine." She said. "I'm with Sherlock, and John will come over soon as well."

"Are you okay?" He asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"Well, I can still tell you that four hundred and forty eight times four hundred and forty seven is two hundred thousand, two hundred and fifty six." Sher said, intentionally ignoring his question.

"That is not what I asked." Mycroft replied.

"I know," she sighed, "but I'm not yet ready to answer the question you asked. Is that fine?"

Mycroft smiled a sad smile at her. "Nothing you will say or do could ever be anything other than fine, Dear. I thought you know that."

Sher hadn't replied to this note of his. Instead, she got out of the bed, grabbed his hand and forced him onto it, even though he only got as far as sitting. "Go to sleep." She said. "When you get up, we'll have the time to talk of anything you'd like."

She watched him as he drifted into sleep, and an old memory popped not her mind. She was seven, maybe eight, and her mother was under the influence. She knew that if Mycroft found out, they'd have to move, and she didn't want to. It was in a small town in the Netherlands, they've been there for nearly a year and it was the longest she could ever recall being anywhere. She started having friends and for the first time in years she finally felt like a regular girl.

So instead of calling the doctor or going to one of her neighbors as she was instructed to do in that situation, Sher held her mother by the arm and led her to bed. When her mom woke up the next morning, she knew nothing of the events of that night, but it stayed in Sher's mind long after the secret was revealed and they moved away.

She never told anyone.

Now, standing in the kitchen and watching Sherlock's miserable attempts to make dinner, Sher remembered the event she was suppressing for a dozen years. She entered the kitchen and took the pan out of Sherlock's hand. A black mark was on it. Judging by the empty shells in the garbage bin, she figured he somehow managed to burn an omelet.

"Have you never cooked?" She asked him.

"I'm not usually hungry." He said. "I only eat when other people make food for themselves."

Sher smiled and opened the fridge.

"Is that a severed head?" She asked.

"An experiment." Sherlock answered.

Sher looked behind it and found some vegetables. She threw away the bad ones and was left with just enough to make a salad. She began cutting it to small pieces, as her mom used to do on her better days.

"How was she like?" Sherlock asked. "Your mother."

Sher focused all her attention at her salad, yet she still answered./

"Don't you remember?" She replied to his question with one of her own.

"I don't remember much of the time I was with her."

"She was... beautiful. Even when she was stoned out, she still looked beautiful."

"But how was she?" He asked again, knowing she intentionally ignored his question.

"She was funny. And smart. She was one of the people who drew all the attention in the room, without trying to." Sher smiled at the memory before the smile turned to a frown. "On her good days. On her bad days... she was not there. She didn't eat anything. She slept for days. Sometimes I came to her room and she just lay there, staring at the ceiling not responding."

Sher stared through the air, seeing something that wasn't there. When Sherlock reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, she jumped and cut her finger. Blood started flowing, staining the table and the vegetables on it.

"Damn, that hurts." She cried out and Sherlock immediately got her a towel.

"Put it on the wound." He said, and disappeared. A moment later he returned with a band aid and a brown bottle. "I'm going to disinfect it, and it's going to hurt, okay?"

She nodded and though she was ready for the pain that was coming, she took a deep breath and suddenly it was all she could think of.

"Let's do math," he said, seeing her pain. "One thousand, three hundred and five times two hundred and thirty six."

Sher thought through the pain, and it was no longer as bad. Soon enough, she was all in the calculation.

"Three hundred and seven thousand," she said slowly, "nine hundred and eighty." She looked up and saw Sherlock cleaning the table.

"Let's just assume you're right, shall we?" He asked.

She looked at her hand, no longer bleeding. She then looked at the vegetables Sherlock was throwing away.

"I guess its takeaway night." He said, and Sher burst into laughter.


	21. Chapter 20

John had arrived some time later and was surprised to see them seated to the table, eating.

"Come and join us." The girl said. "It's Indian food."

"Sher," He replied, "you managed to do the impossible. You managed to make Sherlock eat."

"She also managed to make me try and make an omelet." Sherlock said.

"Better if I didn't, though." Sher added. "The poor frying pan had to be thrown to the garbage."

John smiled at his best friend's frown.

"Last time I'll be doing that." The detective said.

"Thankfully."

Sherlock kept his expression still this time, though a smile began to form on his lips. This girl seemed to be impossible not to like, thought John. She caused Sherlock to like her and even got Mycroft to show feelings. She was incredible.

"So what are you doing here, Sher?" John asked.

"Just thought I'd drop by, see how everything's going." She said. "Home is terribly boring."

Sherlock was amazed by the quickness and ease in which she lied. But she wasn't a very good liar.

"And now the truth, perhaps?" John said. "I noticed Mycroft's car outside. I know he's here, so there must be a reason, most likely concerning you. Why are you here?"

Sher was quiet. Finally she said, "I hate being the only one who can't do deduction." Which brought a smile to Sherlock's face.

"Don't worry." He said. "I'll teach you. But first, answer John."

Sher hesitated, moving her eyes from John to Sherlock and back to John. "Okay." She said to her father. "But only on the condition that you won't be here."

Sherlock frowned, but showed no emotion other than that worried face of his, the one that used to be kept only towards John. Apparently it was Sher's now, as well. Or was it for both of them? John knew it all depends on what Sher will be saying, and something told him it will not be good.

"What is it?" He asked. "Why did you asked Sherlock out?"

"You're Robin. You know that, right?"

"What?" John asked, surprised by the change of subject.

"You're Robin." Sher said again. "You're loyal, and helpful, and caring. But at the end of the day, when the villain does something terrible, he does that to attract Batman's attention. To hurt him."

"So Sherlock is Batman." John said understanding. "And Moriarty is... what? The Joker?"

"It doesn't really matters." Sher said impatiently. "But what he's doing, he's doing to hurt Sherlock. But I need someone to talk to about it, or I'll go mad. So I need you."

"What did he do?"

The whisper was barely above silence, and John had to listen carefully in order not to miss it. "He raped me. He came to my flat, late last night and he raped me. I felt so helpless. He kept saying it wasn't something that hadn't happened before, but it was. It was because I knew the truth. I knew who he really was, and it made all the difference."

John was quiet. He didn't know what to say.

"I don't know why I said all of that." Sher looked rather embarrassed. "I guess it's just something that silly girl of me wanted to do. I'm sorry."

"You are an amazing woman." He finally said. "You are young, and people might see you as if that's all about you but I've seen you, and it isn't. You survived things that people twice your age never encountered. You survived cancer, and Moriarty." He looked at her. "You are not a silly girl. You should never say that about yourself. And you have nothing to apologize to. Not to me, and I'm sure to neither Mycroft nor Sherlock. Always remember that."

"Okay." Sher said. "Thank you for that. I needed to hear it."

"If you ever need anything, anything at all, just tell me."

"Thank you." She said, and though what he just told her, he could see she's embarresed.

There was a couple of seconds of silence before John asked, "if Sherlock is Batman, and I'm Robin, what does it makes Mycroft? Alfred?"

Sher started giggling. "Don't let him hear you say that." She said. "Mrs. Hudson is Alfred, thank you very much. Mycroft is... A new character in one of the latter volumes, I suppose. One that hadn't been known to all but hard-core fans."

John smiled softly. "And you?" He asked.

"Me?" Sher replied. "I don't even exist. I'm a nobody. Just some city commoner Batman never knew her name. He popped up in the middle of an unrelated fight with the Joker or something, and saved me from a flying car."

Sher sighed and John could see the sad look on her face.

"That is not true." He said.

"Really?" Sher asked. "Who am I, then?"

"A whole new character." He replied. "Yet to be written."

* * *

**I decided to end the story here. I no longer have the ideas I used to when I started this Fanfic, and I'm pretty much stuck here with it. In the original plan it should have ended a whole lot sooner.**

**I want to thank again for everyone reading it, followers and favs of this story, it means a lot to me to know that people like the story and the writing.**

**I will come up with two new fanfics soon, though not Sherlock's, but Criminal Minds. Just some ideas I had since before I even thought of this one, yet it took me longer to write.**

**Until the next time!**


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